The Pact of the White Blade Knights

by Barbara Russell

  A storm of punches rained on his head. His vision blurred as pain travelled through him. Tyon pummelled again, a combination of fists and kicks that stole his breath and burned his lungs. He didn’t even try to defend himself. What was the point? He’d be soon dead anyway. Everything was lost. Kaela would be lost because he’d failed her just like he’d failed to protect the love of his life. The tangy taste of blood flooded his mouth, and the blows became almost painless as his body grew numb.

  Hazel’s shout came from a distance, and her silhouette moved closer.

  “Just kill me,” he muttered. “Just bloody kill me.”

  “Tyon, stop!” She stepped between them, arms spread.

  The interruption of the flow of punches caused a new fresh and sharp wave of agony to slither through him. He couldn’t fully open his eyes, and his lips were cracked.

  “Stop,” she said more gently.

  Tyon bared his teeth. Blood covered his knuckles and splatted his shirt. “He was about to kill you.”

  “Calm down.” Her trembling hand touched Tyon’s shoulder. “I can’t see you like that.” A sob wavered in her voice.

  Aleximanus rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t know if he should be happy that Tyon had stopped beating him into a pulp or disappointed. Oblivion sounded so good right now.

  “He was killing you!” Tyon repeated.

  “No, he wasn’t.” She put her hands on Tyon’s chest. If she was trying to shove him, she was doing a poor job. Tyon didn’t budge. “He lowered his blade. He could’ve stabbed me, but didn’t. Trust me. He decided to not kill me.”

  “I saw him standing over you, his blade in his hand.” He went to sidestep her, but she blocked him.

  “And where was the dagger?” she asked. “He wasn’t aiming at me.”

  Aleximanus swallowed blood and wiped his nose while Tyon and Hazel talked in hushed tones.

  “Trust me,” she said.

  The room temperature dropped when Tyon’s power was summoned back to him, and Aleximanus shivered.

  Tyon’s heavy footfalls padded closer. He loomed over him. The implacable tension in his shoulders didn’t leave much hope. “Is it true? Did you stop?”

  Aleximanus worked his jaw. It was like shaking a sack filled with broken glass. “Why would you believe me?”

  “Tell me the truth, and I’ll believe you.”

  Aleximanus barked out a chuckle. The chains around his body coiled tighter and cut off his laugh. Pity and good deeds made them writhing in anger. Not pleasant considering that every muscle in his body was tender and sore.

  “Tell him.” Hazel’s face sauntered in his view, filled with worry for him. A red spot marked her forehead, and a long strand of hair was caked with blood.

  He licked bloodstained lips. “I was ordered to kill her, but . . .”

  “What?” Tyon’s fist clenched the lapel of his jacket. “Speak!”

  “I couldn’t do it!” The shout set Aleximanus’s throat on fire.

  Silence lingered. His heart pounded in his ears, a constant drumming that blotched his sight with pulsating dark spots.

  Tyon stared at him, mouth hanging, fists slackening. In better circumstances, Aleximanus would’ve laughed at his surprised expression.

  Hazel slogged away and came back with a bowl and a cloth. She knelt next to Aleximanus. “Let me—”

  “No!” He crawled away. He’d tried to kill her for God’s sake. He wouldn’t accept her help.

  Tyon stalked him and clutched his shirt again. “She’s trying to help you.”

  “I don’t need help.” It was a lie. His healing power didn’t spark. Since he’d failed his mission, and compassion had stopped his hand, he’d suffer the consequences of his actions.

  “You’re bleeding.” She soaked the cloth in the water.

  Tyon scowled. “Why aren’t you healing?”

  He wiped his mouth and staggered to his feet. “What do you think?”

  Tyon let out a noise halfway between a hiss and a whistle.

  Hazel’s gaze darted between them. “I don’t follow.”

  “He committed a good deed,” Tyon said. “His evil power won’t let him heal.”

  “This is awful.” She stepped stubbornly closer again.

  Aleximanus held up his hands to ward her off. “Don’t do this. Leave me alone.”

  “Why did you want me dead?” The impossible woman ignored his warning and inched forwards.

  “He wants the hallow and doesn’t want me to find another knight,” Tyon said.

  No, that’s not the reason. Aleximanus straightened, leaning against the wall, and averted his gaze.

  “Why?” Hazel’s voice was barely a whisper, but it slapped him like a whip.

  “Hazel.” Tyon shifted next to her in his swift gait, shielding her. “Don’t encourage him and don’t listen to him. He’s a deceiver.”

  “He spared me, and I don’t believe he wanted me dead only because of the hallow. There’s more to this.” She pressed her lips into a tenacious line, one that women had when they dared anyone to cross them.

  Exasperation etched Tyon’s features, but he didn’t argue.

  “Tell me.” She raised the cloth and wiped Aleximanus’s chin.

  The cool cloth and gentle touch spread hope inside him, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  “Let me go,” he almost pleaded, but his words lacked confidence. For the first time, the urge to share his burden overwhelmed him. The Hierophant was right. Hazel was Tyon’s half. Together they became a powerful, balanced force. It was almost like being with his fellow knights again.

  Where Tyon was determination and hardness, she was compassion and strength. Perhaps they could help him and free Kaela. He didn’t care what would happen to him as long as his daughter lived.

  “Talk to me.” The phoenix on her palm glowed when moonlight filtered through the window and bathed her skin.

  Maybe all the blows in his head were giving him hallucinations, but for a split second, he’d swear the Monk’s silhouette materialised behind her. The crimson cowl shimmered in a pale red light. A hard iron fist squeezed his heart.

  You can tell them, the Monk whispered in his mind, or he thought he did. You can trust them.

  “Is it true?” Aleximanus asked.

  “What?” Tyon gritted out. “What are you bloody talking about? That I’ll kill you if you hurt her? Yes, that’s fucking true, cur.”

  The Monk held up a hand in farewell and dissolved, leaving a sense of warmth suffusing Aleximanus. Trust, faith, hope—these were the Monk’s rules, and a in the deep recess of his soul, Aleximanus still believed them.

  “He has my daughter,” he whispered, wincing and expecting the crushing bite of the chains. They coiled tighter, but they didn’t sever his breathing. “He’ll turn her into his bride unless I kill Hazel.”

  Tyon opened his mouth, but Hazel cut him off. “Who has your daughter?”

  “My master, the Hierophant, he killed my spouse and took my daughter five years ago.” He peered at Tyon. “I had no choice but to betray my brothers.”

  “You’re lying. You had a wife and a daughter?” Tyon lunged, but Hazel stopped him, a hand over his chest.

  “Why didn’t you kill me, Tyon?” Aleximanus spat. “Death would be better than the shame I carry every day, and the pain of having failed my blood.”

  “You kept secrets from me.” Tyon beat his chest. “Your captain. Why didn’t you tell me about your family?”

  “Because you wouldn’t have understood!” Fury swept through him. “Your life has always been the Order, and nothing else. You said we had to choose between a normal life, a family, and the Order. That we couldn’t have both.” He swallowed a dollop of blood. “It just happened. I met Chloe. We fell in love, and I was terrified you’d command me to leave her behind, and yes, I wanted everything. I wanted a family, my brothers, and the Order.” It was the first time he unburdened himself, and strangely, he didn�
�t feel any better. Anger soured his mouth and burned the back of his throat. No relief whatsoever. “And then Kaela came, and she was the most precious thing of my life. I didn’t want to break the pact, but I didn’t want to leave them either.”

  “You fool.” Tyon slammed a fist on the wall. “Then why didn’t you tell me earlier?” His chest rose under Hazel’s hand.

  “Because I couldn’t. The Hierophant told me if I spoke to anyone about this, Kaela would be dead.”

  “And why are you telling me now?” Tyon’s voice boomed.

  “Because I don’t have a choice. Because I’m desperate.” He straightened, the chains squirming and twisting.

  “I can’t believe this.” Tyon raked his hands through his hair. “If this is true—”

  “It is true!” he snapped. “And you believed I betrayed you so easily. You didn’t even ask me why I did it. There was no doubt in your mind that I was a traitor.” It hurt. After all these years, Tyon’s lack of trust in him cut him deep like a thin razor.

  Hazel put the bowl down and took Tyon’s hand. “We can help him, can’t we?”

  Tautness rushed back into Tyon’s neck muscles as if he was readying himself for a fight. Fists clenched, and eyes glinted with a challenging fire. “What did your master tell you about Hazel?”

  Aleximanus cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “He wants her dead, not only for the hallow.”

  Aleximanus brushed a lock of hair from his bruised face. “He said he wanted her either dead or turned into a sin-breather and that she’s your half. If she stays with you, you’ll become more powerful.”

  Tyon’s stance slackened, and Hazel swayed on her feet.

  Aleximanus grinned despite the pain in his lips. “If you want to help, you have to break your vow of celibacy.”

  Chapter 17

  TYON RINSED HIS head under the flow of hot water. Aleximanus’s blood was washed away in a pink trail that twirled in the sink. Thousands of thoughts crammed his head and chased each other like hounds, competing for attention. If what Aleximanus had said was true, then he’d cast him away for no reason. Tyon had abandoned one of his knights when he’d needed his captain the most. He, not Aleximanus, had betrayed the pact. And then there was Aleximanus’s daughter. Hell, he hadn’t even known Kaela existed.

  Tyon gripped the edge of the sink and hunched his shoulders. Their suffering was his fault. He’d bear this shame forever. A cold void opened in his chest, slitting his soul.

  What have I done?

  All the pain and desperation of Aleximanus’s betrayal was biting him back in the arse. No, Aleximanus hadn’t failed his family. He had. Because deep down, he knew he would’ve asked Aleximanus to choose. Family and emotional attachments were too dangerous. The knights weren’t allowed to have a normal life. They had a mission. But now . . . Now he understood why Aleximanus hadn’t told him.

  A knock came from the bathroom door. “May I come in?” Hazel’s sweet voice sent a tingle dancing on his skin.

  If you want to help, you have to break your vow of celibacy, Aleximanus’s words haunted him.

  He cleared his throat. “Come in.”

  She pushed the door open. A white bandage covered the wound on her head, and bloodstains still marked her nightgown. A sudden flare of anger swept through him. When he’d seen her on the floor, bleeding with Aleximanus obsidian dagger raised above her, a primordial wrath had exploded inside him. He’d feared it would’ve consumed everything in its path as if he were a damned anger-breather. Aleximanus was lucky to still breathe.

  Fatigue bruised her face, but her huge lilac eyes held him captive, somehow sending his heart into a frenzy.

  “Are you rested?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “I feel better.” She stepped inside. “I think we should’ve convinced Aleximanus to stay here. He wasn’t in good conditions.”

  “I think he wanted to stay alone.” He wiped his hands.

  “About what he said.” She moved closer. A hand slipped on the marble counter inches from his. “What does it mean we’ll become more powerful if we . . . stay together?” Her fingertip brushed his knuckles.

  He pretended the simple touch wasn’t turning his inside into a mesh. “I don’t know. My guess is that you’ll anchor me to the earth, give me balance like my brothers did.”

  “Will I become a sin-eater?”

  “I don’t think so, and I don’t trust what he said.”

  “I think he was honest.”

  “He was.” He curled a finger around hers. The thrill galloping through him was like a bolt of lightning setting his skin alive. His power roared and clawed his chest, but didn’t erupt. It stayed within him, a hurricane in a bottle. “What I mean is that I believe the Hierophant wanted Aleximanus to tell me about Kaela. It was part of his plan.”

  She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. His cock stirred in reply as if she were running her tongue on its length. “Why would he do that?”

  He adjusted his trousers. “To ambush us. If we try to rescue Kaela, he’ll be ready.”

  “I see.” She stared at the floor. “It sounds like whatever we do, we’ll fall into a trap.”

  A long silent moment stretched. The mirror fogged with the steam. Tyon’s heart drummed in his temple as he moved closer.

  He pulled her towards him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Her pulse spiked. He could feel her heart flickering when she pressed her chest against his. A warm fluttery feeling worked its way through him. His power stirred and roared, but the fight with Aleximanus had lowered its energy. Or, maybe it was Hazel who anchored him.

  Tyon stroked her shoulder, arm, and put his hands on her hips, not sure what he wanted to do. No. He knew perfectly well what he wanted to do. He wanted to rip those layers of fabric until the creamy skin of her legs was visible. Then he’d spend the night kissing, nibbling, and tonguing her body to make her squirm with pleasure. His cock twitched in approval and thumped against the constriction of his trousers.

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  Three words that shattered him and filled him with energy at the same time.

  Hazel put her hands on his chest and ran them up and down his pectorals. Even through the fabric of his shirt, each sweet touch caused his muscles to ripple in the attempt to contain his power. He dug his fingers into her skirt, desperate and worried about touching her naked body.

  The buttons of his shirt fell prey to her deft fingers as she unfastened them one at a time. Every time a button popped, his gut clenched with need. She untied another button, paused, and gazed up at him as if waiting for his reaction.

  He stayed still while inside him a storm raged.

  Another button lost its battle against her fingers.

  She hesitated again then she parted the lapels of his shirt and drew in a breath. Her hand splayed over his taut muscles and stayed there as if she was worried to move it. His blood rushed through his veins like before a battle. Tension rode up his spine, making him more sensitive to the light of the gas lamps, to her flowery scent that filled his nostrils, to her curious touch. She stroked his skin from his neck, shoulders, chest, and abdomen. It was a mix of agony and pleasure, a push and pull that threatened to split him apart. He closed his eyes to focus on her teasing touch.

  “What’s this?” Her fingertip trailed over an old scar on his biceps.

  “Before the Monk turned me, we engaged a group of sin-breathers in battle. That was my first real fight.”

  Hazel’s soft, warm lips brushed his scarred skin then trailed right over his heart while her hand kept travelling lower. It was like being burned and immensely soothed at the same time. His power purred one moment and raged the next. Her tongue darted out, teasing his nipple.

  He clutched her hips harder and groaned. “Hazel,” he whispered, loving the sound of her name on his lips.

  She tugged at his nipple, pulling it between her teeth, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

 
Tyon shoved her against the wall and pinned her wrists above her head. She squirmed, and her hips swept against his painful erection. Dark curls escaped from her braid, falling over her heated cheeks. Light glinted in her lilac eyes, beckoning him closer, pulling him towards her. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff and watching the depth of a chasm, only the urge to jump was too strong to be ignored. Her full lips parted, and the tip of her rosy tongue peeked, inviting, tempting, illicit.

  He crushed his mouth against hers, keeping her wriggling wrists and hands away from him. The kiss tore a sensual moan from her. His tongue pushed her lips apart and thrusted inside her welcoming mouth like a merciless conqueror. She moaned again into the kiss, rocking her hips against him. Their tongues entwined, exploring and caressing. They kissed until their breaths mingled, and they were panting. He broke the kiss and touched his forehead to hers.

  His power surged, and a few tiles cracked and splintered. The lights of the gas lamps flickered as if a gust of wind troubled them, and one of the door’s hinges broke. But the floor didn’t quake.

  Her long lashes fanned against her cheeks while her chest rose and fell, pressing against his. From the opening in her dressing gown, he caught a glimpse of her creamy swells.

  Trailing his hands over her arms, he released her wrists. Her breath blew over his sensitive skin. She was a glorious sight—wayward tendrils framing her flushed face, kiss-swollen lips glistening with moisture, and hooded eyes.

  “You’re so beautiful it hurts.” He caressed her rosy cheek with his knuckles.

  She put her hands on his shoulders. “Kiss me again.”

  He bent his head to oblige, but she stopped him, pushing on his chest.

  “Not there.” She traced his jaw with her fingernail then started to undo the tie of her dressing gown.

  A froth of white lace and silk spilled when she parted the lapels. The ribbons of her bodice strained against her full breasts, shoving them up. She shrugged her dressing gown off. It fell on the floor in a swish of fabric. Her nightgown was the next victim. It pooled at her feet until she stood with only her chemise and drawers in front of him.